The Agony And Ecstasy
by TheMultiverse
Summary: The untold story of Haymitch Abernathy, and the trials that he faced growing up. His childhood and the reaping, his experience in the games and what he lost. Most importantly how the revolution changed him and what part he had to play in the big picture.
1. Chapter 1

Haymitch Abernathy was by no means a philosophical man. He was a self proclaimed agnostic, incapable of gathering the capacity to care for either theist or atheists. His mantra in life remained the same: Live like there's no tomorrow and if your lucky enough it might not come.

It was in the wee hours of the morning when he drunkenly stumbled out of his local bar. Years of abusing his body had finally paid off, the once angelic choir boy was replaced by the bitter, caustic man he had become.

The cold winds whipped mercilessly at the ex-Victors worn coat. The energetic crowd of Panem eagerly engulfed the lost man, all oblivious to his dismal existence.

Illuminated by the dim street lights a couple shared an sweet embrace after their agreed engagement, attracting both embarrassing wolf whistles and collective heart felt sighs amongst the onlookers. Haymitch simply scoffed.

Whilst others measured their lives in pivotal decisions and actions he measured his in bouts of misery and their never ceasing torment.

Eager to disperse from the crowd Haymitch hailed an incoming taxi and gruffly ordered to be driven back to the high-class area of town, Victors' Village. The large, balding driver turned his head and studied his strange passenger in disbelief. Haymitch's attire was scruffy at best, his stubble sported several days of neglected shaving and he was reasonably sure he hadn't changed his shirt that week. The Victor resembled a street side homeless man more then a respected, unbelievably wealthy icon.

His memories were often broken and disjointed, leaving his barely intact mind left to piece them together. Haymitch seldom reminisced about his youth, preferring not to ponder on the past or the future but to rather live for the wretched present. A trait he ironically despised in his father growing up.

Surrounded by the loneliness of his current predicament, Haymitch gave himself to his forgotten memories he tried so hard to repress and allowed the darkness to swiftly smother him in nostalgia.

He still remembered the rain, it was pounding on the window pain relentlessly that day. As a boy of eleven he gazed out the frosted glass, tracing the patterns of the racing raindrops. His fingers all the while absentmindedly fiddling with his starched shirt and knotted tie.

His appearance was almost comical. Whilst his prep school uniform shouted formality and maturity, his cherubic face still bore the childish innocence and pudginess that while attracting the oh's and ah's of middle-aged mothers (whom adored to pinch his ruby cheeks,) earned him rather unpleasant nicknames with his peers.

This was one of the many reasons Haymitch Abernathy dreaded to attend school that day. At a young age he was presented with the nastier aspects of life, etching life long fallacies and prejudices against fellow man that made him the man he was.

His youthful pondering was rudely interrupted by his older sister, Emily Abernathy. Emily gained her brothers attention with a teasing slap, returning him to the present. She was almost a carbon copy of her brother, inheriting all the traditionally Abernathy features though wearing them with a grace Haymitch could never accomplish.

Her blond hair cascaded down in waves, as she shot Haymitch with her piercing almond-green eyes.

"Sulking's not gonna get you anywhere, little bro." Emily taunted, not sharing her brother ideology on school. Haymitch rolled his eyes in exasperation and stalked away from his sister in faux anger.

"Must we go? Please, just for today can I skip? I feel as if I'm coming down with something." Haymitch summoned his heartbreaking puppy dog eyes. This face alone had successfully manipulated numerous shop keepers and teachers alike but rendered useless in face of his sister.

The older Abernathy, sympathetic to Haymitch's plight decided to lighten the mood. She lifted up her younger brother, earning many squeals of delight, and placed him carefully on her shoulders.

Emily successfully banished Haymitch's self-pity and anger as she stomped through rain puddles and ran along the neighborhood roads threatening to tip him of as she went. The siblings were oblivious to the disapproving glares they gather from all around.

"There goes those Abernathy children again," Timothy's mother would tut, clutching her spoilt brat closer in her vice-grip.

Reaching the front gate of Panem Middle School Emily regretfully placed her little brother down. She lovingly dusted of his once crisp white shirt and fussed over his loosened laces. She bent down to tie them.

"Haymitch, you are only eleven year old I know who can't tie his own laces. No wonder Miss Honeycomb thinks your behind." Her eyes lacked the malice in her words. Her brother rolled his eyes, accustomed to his sisters reprimanding.

After Haymitch's appearance was deemed appropriate, Emily stood up and survey him. "Don't you look dashing." She flattered, pleased to see the spark retunring in Haymitch's warm-brown eyes.

His beam lightened up his angelic face, he stared longingly at Emily willing her to take him away. Emily returned him a soft, apologetic smile. "I'll be here to pick you up at four, I promise."

Haymitch peered at her retreating figure until she vanished into the distance, no longer visible to his scrutinizing stare. He then turned back to the harsh reality facing him.

The bright blue gates clashed horribly with Haymitch's inner disgust at his school. Children frolicked amongst the tiled ground gleefully and teachers milled about the area engaging in conversation with clingy parents who typically inquired about the more redundant aspects of life, such as the weather.

Haymitch's heart contracted at the absence of his parents. At such an age he was still filled with childish optimism and hoped his father would make an appearance that day. He soon learned the perils of believing the best in people and from then on managed to pinpoint the worst.

With a regretful sigh and an expression far beyond his years Haymitch Abernathy entered Panem Middle School, counting the seconds and minutes until he could once again escape.


	2. Chapter 2

Much to Haymitch's dismay, harsh sunlight streamed through his partially closed blinds, disrupting him from a peaceful slumber. "Haymitch Abernathy! If you are not down here in three seconds, trust me there will be hell to pay!" A loud, feminine voice threatened.

He regretfully trudged down the stairs at a frightfully slow pace, rubbing his sleep-worn eyes all the while. After briefly sneering at his sister, whom had the gall to awaken him, Haymitch collapsed on the wooden kitchen chair. His blond hair stood on end, imitating that of a mad scientist, much to the amusement of a cheery Emily.

There was no doubting that the Abernathy household was well off. The tastefully decorated living room and mahogany tables spoke for itself. Unlike many typical District 12 residents, Haymitch had never experienced true hunger or starvation. A fact Gregory Abernathy strived hard to achieve. Gregory was a stubbornly proud man and would be damned if his children didn't grow up in a lifestyle he was deprived of.

His light brown hair was streaked with grey, a result of a high-powered lifestyle while his posture and attire read a military man, strict and hard working to the bone. Despite his many faults he deeply adored his children, just in a manner which was hard to identify. He did not partake in hugging or kissing of any kind and did not believe voicing his affection would do his children any good. In his mind the best way to prove his love and success of a single parent was to give them everything. And that he did.

Haymitch and his sister hardly noticed the absence of their father that morning, presuming he was once again locked in his study. Gregory Abernathy was a formidable man and not one who wished to be disturbed when he was working, a lesson Haymitch learnt the hard way.

"It's half past six and you're still looking like something the cat dragged in, come on! Tanya will be here to pick us up any minute." Emily reprimanded, taking a moment to swat her brother. Haymitch audibly moaned.

"NO! I hate it when she comes, she insists on treating me like a little boy. I have to hold her hand to cross the street. Hold. Her. Damn. Hand." He whined, apparent disgust written across his face.

Emily smirked. "That's because you _are_ a little boy. It'll be fun I promise, we can even drop you off in your classroom."

Haymitch prayed his sister was joking. "Does she have family problems that she projects onto me? Maybe a craving for a sibling or a deep rooted physiological issue?"

"Why don't you ask her? I'm sure she'll love that." Emily replied deadpanned.

* * *

The shrewd, high-pitched school bell echoed across the nearby streets where Haymitch and his band of misfit troublemakers crouched. A self satisfied grin was painted across his face as he scrutinized his partners in crime. Three equally pigheaded boys glanced eagerly at their ringleader awaiting further instructions. Faced with the unappealing prospect of sitting through Pre-Algebra Haymitch decided to make a run for it. Before staging his escape he shrewdly decided that if all else fails he should have safety in numbers, hence the delightful company of Stuart, Rob and Rick.

Stuart was a short, stout looking boy whose dearest objective in life was to create the world's biggest slingshot, this was rather ambitious compared to his two other companions Rob and Rick. Both the mousy haired twins didn't have the capacity to spell slingshot let alone make one.

Panem Middle School was an isolated building located near the woods. A high chain-link fence closed off the area to one side while a single dirt road led to town in the opposite direction. The four boys stuck out like a sore thumb, loitering next to the school gates. Haymitch paced back and forth, willing an idea to come to him.

Current accompaniment excluded, he considered himself rather savvy and street smart. Haymitch also credited himself with the ability to always make the best of every situation, glancing distastefully at Rick and Rob whom seemed to be engaging in a competition judging whose spit would travel the furthest he severely doubted he could put them to good use. That's when his ingenious idea struck.

"Oy! Come here, I have a plan." The twins momentarily paused their game and plodded towards Haymitch. "Who's hungry?" He inquired. Stuart and the twins exchanged confused looks before Rob, unsure, raised his hand. Haymitch rolled his eyes in exasperation at the sheer lack of intelligence within the group.

"There's a sweet shop down the street run by Ms Carediff, she's a real witch." The other boys hastened to nod approvingly before Haymitch continued. "This is perfect timing, she's a bit of an old bat and her eyesight isn't great. When two of us distract her the other two can quickly grab some sweeties. Good idea, right?"

When the other two boys grunted in what Haymitch deduced as approval Stuart quivered in fear and whispered. "But.. But, isn't that stealing? What if we get caught, we'd be in so much trouble!" Haymitch laughed loudly and was soon accompanied by appropriate snorts from the twins. He conspiratorially motioned Stuart to come closer before whispering in his ear. "We won't get caught, do you know why we won't?" He paused for dramatic effect. "Because I know it, and _I _know everything." His unwavering confidence subdued Stuart for the time being.

Ms Carediff was infamous thought District 12 for both her loathing of children as well as her lack of personal hygiene. She also unfortunately owned the only Candy Store in a 30 mile radius. The widespread poverty throughout the District resulted in very little profit and very bad business. Not a day went by when she wasn't approached by a starving child or beggar who pleaded for her scraps, her response to all of them never wavered. She shut the door and left. Business was bad enough, she didn't have the time to engage in philanthropy.

This practice led to a deep set despise of thievery, as well as a paranoid suspicion of her customers. Haymitch and the trio casually sauntered into the store, their lack of discretion was overlooked by Ms Carediff's foul mood. She leered at the boys. "Are you just here for the view or do you plan on buying something anytime soon?" Her tightlipped mouth curled in a cruel smirk.

The plan, already briefed and practiced by the gang was set into motion. "Uh, Uh, Mrs Carediff how much are the lemon sherbets?" Stuart pleasantly inquired, palms sweating in fear. "Are you blind boy! Or just to stupid to read?" Ms Carediff shrieked. Rob shoved Rick quickly into stack of jars causing them all to crash. The shop owner was hysterical with anger. Shouting illegibly to herself. "Stupid boys! Look what they've done! They don't have enough brains to fill an eggcup! You can bet you'll be paying for this, I should have never let them in!"

Haymitch used the commotion to reach under the desk and snatch handfuls of the colorful assortment, stuffing them into his coat pocket. He paused and winked at an alarmed Stuart, who watched his every move wearily. "THIEF!" A blood-curling scream echoed around the shop as Haymitch was met with the terrifying hollow pupils of Ms Carediff.

Haymitch's blood turned cold, his heart was beating erratically as he struggled to keep a cool head and analyze his remaining options, opting for the most practical he desperately shouted. "Run!"

The twins managed to scramble out, Haymitch turned and cursed under his breath at the sight of a shell-shocked Stuart. He was standing still, a vacant expression painted on his chubby face. Haymitch ventured back into the store where Ms Carediff was currently bellowing for the Peacemakers and grabbed Stuart. He sprinted out, ripping his shirt out of the hawk-grip the angry shop keeper had on it.

* * *

Emily immediately noticed something was wrong with her brother. Haymitch was uncharacteristically preoccupied and despondent, she playfully nudged him with her elbow. "The world as we know it is coming to an end! Haymitch Abernathy is quiet!" She melodramatically announced, a statement such as that would usually be followed by a snort or a playful shove. Haymitch hardly reacted, showing no signs of having heard her.

"Okay, now this is just weird. What is up with you?" Haymitch sighed before replying. "Just tired, that's it."

* * *

The following morning the first lesson was interrupted by an abrupt whole-school assembly held on the front grounds. Each student was lined up according to grade and class, Haymitch's throat contracted at the sight of Ms Carediff flanked by both the headmaster and two peacekeepers.

The formidable group inspected each student, Ms Carediff occasionally directed her gnarled finger at students making seemingly random comments such as. "Too short, this one." and "Much too fat. There was a fat one that I recall but he isn't it." She examined every student much to the headmasters dismay who continued to refer back to his watch.

Haymitch screwed up his eyes in frustration, his forehead grew sweaty and warm. He prayed to every god out there he would not be called out. Once again he cursed his blonde hair, shining like a beacon. He was sure to be immediately spotted. "Him, that's the one!" Ms Carediff announced in joy, her piggy eyes boring deep into Haymitch's soft brown.

Dragged by the scruff of his collar Haymitch was pulled into a clearing by two burly, uninterested Peacekeepers. "Stand up straight and hands behind your head Boy." They ordered. The remaining school students watched hypnotized, some in awe others in individual concern wishing never to face such a punishment.

He refused to cry out in agony, forcing down a strangled yelp when the first lash was delivered. The initial hit didn't hurt, it was the following sting which felt as if his back was on fire. A pair of calloused hands held his in place while the whipping continued. Haymitch cringed, subconsciously arching his exposed back away from the attacker. A silent tear crept down his face, the only sign of his pain - Other than that, he kept stubbornly silent.

* * *

Haymitch could hear his father in the other room, apologizing profusely for his behavior. He could imagine the disapproving glare of his headmaster faced with the stoic, cold face of his father attempting to diplomatically iron out the situation. His nimble fingers softly traced the bruised lines on his back, wincing when he encountered a freshly bleeding wound.

Hearing the door open he jumped to attention, folding his hand onto his lap. Haymitch's wrist was roughly grabbed as his father hurried him through the hallways and into the awaiting car. He was happy to discover the presence of Emily, who was seated in the back. She quickly offered him a soft, apologetic smile, sensing what was to come next. Haymitch came to the sudden conclusion he would rather face another twenty lashing then the wrath of his father.

The silence in car was deafening, it was only broken by Haymitch's soft winces when his back rubbed against the seat. Gregory Abernathy refused to face his children and stared out at the passing traffic with an unreadable expression painted on his face. The roads were relatively empty, the majority of District 12 struggled to obtain a hot meal let alone a car. Gregory's government job was the only reason they had access to one.

* * *

After returning home, Haymitch's father swiftly receded back into his study without a word to anybody. Emily gently lead her younger brother to the bathroom before placing him down a stool and running the tub's hot water. Steam soon filled up the room, much to the relief of Haymitch as his tears started to flow. His sister inched his shirt tenderly off his back revealing his gruesome scars.

Emily blanched in disgust, her worry was soon filled with unadulterated anger. Haymitch sensed this. "It's my fault. I pulled the stupid stunt, getting angry won't help." His sisters eyes lit up with indignation. "You pulled a school yard stunt and they beat you to a pulp! Those are never going to heal fully, there will always be scars and for what? For stealing 5 dollars worth of gobstoppers?"

Haymitch kept tactfully quiet and allowed her to lower him into the soothing water. He slowing slid his eyes shut, relishing in the feel of the water lapping up his wounds.

* * *

It was late and dark when Haymitch was summoned into his den. Emily had already fallen asleep, a fact he knew his father waited for. Emily was always the more rebellious of the two, no doubt intervening in his fathers punishment. Haymitch cautiously approached, like one may have before entering a lion's den.

His father large oak table loomed over Haymitch's small figure, the familiar smell of cigars and musty books infiltrated his senses. Gregory Abernathy massaged his forehead fending off his current headache. "Do I not give you enough money for food? Is that why? Or are you acting out because you miss your mother? Is _that_ why? Help me out here son, because for the life of me I cannot figure out why a perfectly well brought up boy would feel the need to _steal _from somebody. That's not what I taught you."

Haymitch hung his head in shame. "Sorry." The words were hardly audible and made no impact whatsoever. His father looked down at him, an expression of anger melted into saddening confusion. Gregory Abernathy was the king of the corporate world, he had built up his empire from nothing and despite an impoverish background he had made it. Business men would shake when he entered, he was feared and respected alike by all but his son. The one living person who still baffled him.

So Gregory Abernathy did what he usually did to everything that he couldn't understand. He made it go away.

He silently handed Haymitch a train ticket and a wad of cash. "You will be staying with your Aunt Meredith for a while, I think the mountain air will do you some good. You will leave in the morning, you can say goodbye to your sister then."

Tears streamed down Haymitch's face as he stared at the tickets in disbelief. In his worst nightmares he could never imagine a fate so cruel. "Papa!" He cried, a term of endearment he hadn't used since he was a toddler. "I can do better Papa, I know I can. Please just let me try." He blubbered almost incoherently. His father shot his a look of sympathy, a brief flash of remorse went by so fast Haymitch was convinced he imagined it.

His father stood up and exited the study, turning the light off as he went. Haymitch was left in his tears and despair, crumpling to the ground at the sound of the shut door.


End file.
